Taken Under
by Gone-With-The-Dork
Summary: Paige Markwell is having horrifying nightmares without any known reason. Having no recollection of her past to infer upon, she turns to the one man who may hold the answers to her problems: Dr. Jonathan Crane. Aka, The Scarecrow. Will he help her? Or will he make her suffer even more? Rated M for graphic content.
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning of a New Era

Some things just can't be explained. The broken mirrors, the loud screams, the awful nightmares… all of this wasn't uncommon to her. She would toss and turn vigorously all night long until she woke up in a panic frenzy; palms sweating and chest tight from the absolute terror that was clearly etched into her pained features. Bolting straight up in her plush, twin size bed, Paige would gasp heavily as if she hadn't taken a breath in years; hands fumbling to pull the blankets off her cold, damp body.

This was the fourth time in the last two days that she had been in such a state. Every nightmare she had was vividly painted with her own crimson blood and high pitched screams. It all felt so real, as if she had actually had her face smashed into a mirror by some man she did not remember or know. Or that she had been attacked by a woman in white that sliced at her until there was nothing left but bone.

Each one yielded the same result: Wake up screaming in a cold sweat, sit up, breath for 10 minutes, and go back to sleep. She knew not the cause, but what she did know was that she couldn't handle it much longer. With school rapidly approaching, and her major already causing her enough stress as it is, she would get no sleep whatsoever if it kept up like this.

She'd tried therapy, psychoactive drugs, and every relaxation technique there was known to man, and yet the nightmares persist. With a groan and a rub of her eyes, Paige swung her pale legs off the side of the bed and reached for the little bedside table lamp. Having illuminated enough of the small room for her to walk in, she drug herself over to the oakwood desk across the room where her laptop sat. Paige pulled the sleek top up and started it up with little effort despite her groggy state. Once the computer's desktop loaded, she peered to the lower right to check the time. 6:42 AM.

"Great.." she mumbled groggily as she rubbed her eyes. "No point in going back to sleep. Stupid insomnia, stupid fucking nightmares.."

She then clicked on Google Chrome and pulled up the bookmark for the Gotham newspaper mediocre website. Though she could barely call it news, the paper typically kept their site updated with what was going on around Gotham; most of it of course having to deal with one of it's many rogues. Riddler, Joker, Two-Face, Clayface, Killer Croc, Mad Hatter… You name it, they had been a headline at one point or another.

As the page loaded, her soft green eyes fluttered across the brightly lit screen to scan for anything that might catch her eye and be worth reading. Maybe it would calm her down. Bruce Wayne donated a lump sum of money to some misbegotten charity for the second time this month, boring. Commissioner Gordon announced as Gotham's outstanding citizen of the year, uninspiring. She scrolled and scrolled until the term "scarecrow" appeared in a breaking news tagline.

With a blank, yet somewhat questioning stare, she clicked the link and began to read the breaking news article

 _ **SCARECROW ESCAPES ARKHAM FOR THE SECOND TIME**_

 _By: Lauren Highcroft_

DOWNTOWN GOTHAM- _It appears that Jonathan Crane, also known as the Scarecrow, has escaped from Arkham Asylum for the second time after being sentenced to 10 years last month on 2 counts of attempted murder by inhumane methods. Not much is known how or why he has chosen now to escape, but Commissioner Gordon has this to say for the citizens of Gotham: "Don't take the law into your own hands. If you see any sign of Jonathan Crane, please contact the GCPD and we will dispatch immediately. Stay safe and be cautious."_ ___We will have more on the story as the information is given._

For a moment, all she did was blink and stare at the name Jonathan Crane.

 _ **Jonathan Crane… Why is that so familiar to me?**_

She'd heard the name before of that she was certain, but couldn't remember exactly where. It seems like someone recently was talking about him outside of his recent criminal allegations. What were they talking about? After a few moments of scathing her brain for an answer, she pulled up another tab and put his name to the Google test.

The first to pop up was a profile of the Scarecrow, provided by tabloid sources that fed off the notion that Batman actually gave two shits about what they had to say about the lunatics they seemingly had information on. Not surprising.

The second was an article about Jonathan Crane, ex-professor of Gotham University. **_Her_** university.

Skimming through the article, she learned that Jonathan Crane had been a prominent professor of psychology at one point in his life and taught numerous courses on the subject for years at Gotham University. He was, however, terminated when he took his lessons on perception of fear a little too far by firing a gun in the lecture hall, scaring most of his students shitless. Or at least she assumed that's what happened. Scared them enough to complain, that's for sure. Dr. Crane was terminated the next day and rumor has it that he was so angry that he moved to exact his revenge on the university itself as the Scarecrow.

 ** _So he had some sort of temper tantrum? Is that it?_**

"What else have ya got Johnny-boy…" she said as she continued to scroll through the expansive article curiously.

Towards the end it linked to various other stories on the Gotham's newspaper archives that told of numerous accounts of him robbing places, killing civilians, and all while using what we've come to understand as "fear toxin." One particular piece read that "people who survived a Scarecrow attack were known to develop severe signs of paranoia, anxiety, and PTSD that were often caused by the hallucinogenic state they were put in thanks to the fear toxin's compound."

 ** _So he's a chemist too? Man, he's just all over the place isn't he?_**

This fear toxin caused those who came in contact with it to experience high levels of stress and terror that could never be replicated in real world situations. It's often thought that hallucinations produced by the compound vary from person to person, depending on what they fear most such as snakes, spiders, bats, or even death. It, quite bluntly, could "scare someone to death" if they were exposed for too long, and many had found that out the hard way.

 ** _But how?_**

After what seemed like hours of reading and scrolling, Paige glanced down at the clock once more. 9:35 AM. She had spent the last 3 hours gathering an information she could about the infamous Scarecrow and the good Dr. Crane and jotted down some notes on a spare pad of paper she had kept in the desk drawer to the right. If this man could manipulate fear in such a way that it gave people heart attacks, perhaps he knew a thing or two about what was causing her stream of night terrors? It was a long shot, but what did she have to lose in all honesty? Plus, it would make for a good story later for her journalism class to have a go at.

She was going to find Jonathan Crane. She had to. It was the only option she had left.


	2. Chapter 2: Dissect and Unravel

"Hey, Paige, you alright?"

Paige peered over the top of her laptop at her dark headed roommate, who had just pierced the silence of the morning daze of their living room. Skylar was a modest light skinned girl with rounded features and short stature. She wasn't exactly skinny either, just, as she put it, "thick." She also happened to be a criminal justice major who would have interned for the valiant Harvey Dent before his… well accident.

"Yeah.. I'm fine. Why?" Paige responded solemnly, directing her attention back to the LED screen where her research was getting her no where with Crane's whereabouts. Skylar plopped down beside her and carefully stretched her arms out on the back of the dark blue palatial couch that adorned spacious living room.

"You're just more quiet than usual, that's all. I figured you were watching porn and just didn't want to tell me," she teased, smirking proudly at her own jest which earned a chuckle out of Paige.

"Oh ha ha very funny. Where'd you get that one? The Joker?"

Skylar, being over dramatic for the sake of comedy, gasped loudly and put her hand to her chest in fake awe. Paige just quirked her brow and glanced over at her and was met with the same shit eating grin that was spread across her own features.

"Just kidding. But seriously, what have you been up to?" Skylar asked as her amber eyes peered over to the screen, causing Paige to shift uncomfortably to keep her from seeing exactly what she was doing. Not that Skylar would be able to put two and two together at this point, but she'd rather not worry the poor girl if she could help it. Was bad enough she sometimes had to wake her up from her night terrors.

"Oh nothing. Just following up on an article I read this morning. Did you see that they still haven't found the Riddler's last victim?"

"Yeah, I also heard that old John-boy Crane broke out of the nut house again. Kinda soon for him if you ask me. Though I have no idea how a walking bag of straw managed to worm his way through all that security," Skylar replied, completely engrossed in the topic as she sat up a bit on the couch.

 ** _Shit. Hopefully she didn't see the screen, please god tell me she didn't see the screen._**

"Yeah, me either man."

"So why the sudden interest in the Scarecrow, eh?"

 ** _Great._**

It had been a few days since Crane's escape from Arkham, but with her plight ahead of her, Paige devoted a mass amount of her time lately to gathering information on the bastard.

"Well… you know me. I'm a sucker for good journalism. I figured that I'd look into this a bit more and see what I can find."

"Don't tell me you're going to try to crack this one."

Paige scoffed and waved her hand. "No, that's not what I mean. I'm trying to see if anything may have been left out in these articles, because they seem to only be scratching the surface."

"Just promise me you won't dress in tights and head out into the night to bring him to justice," Skylar teased with a lighthearted smile before she pulled out her phone to scroll through her news feeds.

"I promise not to become the next Batman. I bruise like a banana anyhow, I don't think having a confrontation with any dangerous criminal will end well for me."

Later that day, Paige took her pad of paper that she had been recording details on and went out to get groceries for the apartment. What she had found was very little, but it was better than nothing. It seemed that through various psycho analyzations that Crane only had a fixation for proving a point through psychological means. Meaning, he never really sought out to hurt people at first. He only meant to show that he was right, that he deserved the respect he had lost long ago.

She also learned that he seemingly kept low for most of his schemes, often eluding police and the bat for months at a time after a crime's been committed. Makes sense when you think about how much time and effort he must put forth to make his precious fear toxin. Speaking of which, he should be looking for ways to stock back up on it soon enough.

Perhaps she was reading too much into it, but it would take a lot more than what she had to figure out where he was heading if she was serious about this whole thing. As she rounded the corner of Queen street, she ran head first into something and staggered backwards and drop her note pad.

"Oh geez, I'm really sorry sir. I wasn't paying attention.."

"It's quite alright, here let me help you," the man replied as he bent over to pick up the pad. Paige instinctively bent down to help and looked closer at the man she had just rammed herself into.

He was taller and kind of scrawny, sharp cheekbones and dark brown hair. A pair of glasses sat at the bridge of his nose and were wire thin, like reading glasses. Scholarly looking, if you asked her, like he had an air of intellect about him that.. maybe a teacher would have. Maybe that was because he was older, who knows. His voice wasn't deep either, which added to the idea.

The man extended the pad to her, but not before glancing at what she had written.

"The Scarecrow, eh? Are you a journalist?" He asked, attentive now to her face as if to gauge how she would react to his question.

Paige blinked and shyly took the pad of paper and tucked it away in her dark grey hoodie pocket. "Kind of.. I'm studying broadcast journalism at Gotham University."

"Gotham University you say? What year are you?"

"I'm only in my second year sir."

"Really now? Hmm… Well, you best get on your way. I hear the Scarecrow is a bit of a night owl. Wouldn't want you getting hurt," he retorted with a ghost of a smile, to which Paige smiled back.

"Yeah, so I've heard.."

"Good luck with your studies."

And with that, he tucked his hands into his pockets and continues walking the way he was before it even happened.

For a moment, Paige didn't move, just watched him curiously as he walked away. She didn't know what it was about the guy, but there was something in the way he said Gotham University that struck a chord in her. It was almost like… he couldn't bear to say it. Like it physically pained him to form the syllables and say it to someone.

She shrugged and began on her way to the store, letting the encounter go to the back of her mind as she focused on the task at hand. Pulling out her phone, she dialed Skylar's number and put the phone to her ear.

"Hey Paige. What's up?"

"Hey, what do you want to do for dinner tonight?"

 **A/N: Hey guys. So, I'm kind of playing around with this idea of a backstory for Paige because I know the end of this already, but I really want you guys to get a feel for Paige and her past before jumping head first into what I have planned for her. That being said, in the next chapter we may have a confrontation with the Scarecrow himself and get to work on the actual plot of this story. I'm open to constructive criticism, so please feel free to review and help me out. Would really appreciate it!**


	3. Chapter 3: Short Hiatus Notice

A/N: Hey guys, just dropping by to let you guys know that the next update for this story won't be until after I move into my dorm on Friday. I am crazy busy with packing up things and getting all my paperwork done for school, so I'm putting this project on hold until this weekend. I'm shooting, however, to make the next chapter atleast 3000 words and really get into the thick of the plot.

Be expecting an update by Sunday night! Thank you for your patience and time!


	4. Chapter 4: Making The Call

"Hey, I'm going to bed. Need anything?" Skylar murmured as she rubbed her tired eyes and yawned. It was only 10:30, but Skylar hadn't moved much at all since dinner had been made. Though Paige couldn't particularly blame her. She was tired too, but the LED screen of her laptop kept her awake just enough to continue the research she had been conducting all evening.

Paige gazed over to Skylar standing by the doorway to her room and waved her hand nonchalantly. "Nah, I'm good. Get some rest. You've got breakfast to make in the morning."

"Alright… Night."

"Night," Paige replied and watched as her door closed with a satisfying thunk. Yawning, she then turned her attention back to the computer screen and began to scroll through yet another article compiled of a Scarecrow heist. She wasn't too far away from getting what she needed, but at the same time she was running out of options. Scarecrow's locations were very sporadic. He rarely ever went to the same place twice and moves mostly undetected, according to what she had already read.

What appeared to be a common pattern though with the walking bag of straw was that he was very specific as to what he would target. If it was a person, it appeared he would spend months gathering information and supplies before ever even breathing around them. What was strange though about it was how he got his information.

No police source stated just how he was getting home addresses, phone numbers, or any personal information on his victims other than that there was a possibility he worked with Edward Nygma at one point or another, but that was just pure speculation. He had to have connections. There's no other possible way he could get all that on his own, especially given his reputation at the University.

 _So, what then?_

Paige groaned and was about to close her laptop when her cell phone went off. Picking it up carefully, she glanced over the number and quirked a brow.

 _(617)-309-8654?_

Hesitant to answer right away, she waited till the ring just before it would go to voicemail and answered.

"Hello?"

Nothing could be heard on the other end, despite light, subtle breathing.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Markwell I presume?" The voice sounded familiar. Not too deep, but not too high… A man, for sure. The real question though was how he knew her name.

"Um… Yes? Who is this?"

"That's not important right now. Is there anyone in the room with you right now?"

"I'm not obligated to sa-"

" **I can see you**."

She froze. Her free hand was gripping the sheets of her bed tightly and her breath was shallow as if at any moment, she would be drawing her last.

"H-how?"

"Answer my question, Ms. Markwell. Quid pro quo."

"N-no, no one's in the room with-"

"Good. I know you've been looking for me. And my, aren't you curious."

Her eyes widened in absolute terror as the man's words processed through her mind. _Jonathan Crane_. _Scarecrow_. **_The_** _Scarecrow_.

"... Jonathan Crane?""The one and only. You know, if you were so curious, you really could have just asked me when we bumped into each other earlier," he replied smugly with a dark chuckle.

"Wait…" she whispered, mind racing through the day's events that didn't involve her staring at a computer screen. Nothing came to mind until she remembered the street corner. The man she ran into. The one who helped her gather her things.

"You remember don't you? C'mon now. For a journalist, you seem pretty slow to the point of things."

"What do you want from me Dr. Crane?" She snapped, still afraid but managing it fairly well given the circumstances.

"I believe **_I_** should be asking that question. What is it that **you** want with _me_? I'm sure we can come to an understanding, since I'm feeling generous tonight."

She scowled, brow knit in frustration as he openly mocked her. "Well gee, had I known it only took a phone call to get you, I might have just looked in the phone book."

He laughed outright in response, completely amused at her response as if she were an incompetent child who knew no better. It made Paige's blood boil.

Like highschool all over again.

"Dr. Crane, this is probably best done in person."

He cleared his throat, some what questioningly. "Oh really now? Do you think I'm that stupid? How do I know you aren't going to just send the police?"

"Because I need your help and I'm willing to do anything to get it," she replied sharply, regretting her word choice almost immediately as she heard him chuckle deeply.

" _Anything_? My, you're more than curious. You have a purpose."

Silence fell over the both of them briefly, before Crane cleared his throat again.

"Shall we say, Iceberg Lounge tomorrow night at 8?"

This was it. This was her chance to get the answers she needed. All the nightmares, the sleepless nights, all the time spent researching and experimenting… It could all finally mean something. She could finally be put at ease. All she had to was say yes.

"I'll be there."

Crane chuckled darkly and moved to speak once more before abruptly hanging up the phone: _**"Good luck, Ms. Marwell."**_

 **A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this took so long. I started classes this week and it's taken a lot out of me given the fact that I was on a crazy sleep schedule before hand and now have to wake up at 8 on most mornings. I know I promised a longer chapter, but the next chapter will actually have to be the longer one due to the plot of the story beginning to thicken. I'm trying to manage things, but updates will probably be slow because of my schedule being crazy, but I'm outlining things in my free time and I'm managing to create some artwork for you guys to have. Hope you guys enjoyed and please feel free to review! I appreciate constructive criticism!**


	5. Chapter 5: Intimidation

What had she done?

Had she just actually said _**yes**_ to this lunatic?

For awhile after she had gotten off the phone, Paige sat in awe of herself. It was hard to stomach, the fact that in a matter of hours, she would be face to face with one of Gotham's most criminally insane rogues. Her breathing was still shallow and uneven, her stomach making twists and turns as she contemplated what it is exactly that she expected to get from this.

Was learning about these dreams **_really_** worth it?

"I guess I'll figure it out tomorrow... " she muttered with a sigh as she shut her laptop and laid it to the side. One thing was for certain, there was no going back now. He knew where she was, he probably knew what she wanted, and more importantly, he must want something from her seeing as how he went through all the trouble of finding her. And **that** was scary.

 _Sleep. You can figure it out tomorrow…_

The next morning, Paige rolled out of bed groggy and sluggish from another night of tossing and turning. Her crimson sheets were piled up at the foot of the bed along with her charcoal grey comforter, having been kicked off at some point throughout the night. She brought a slim hand to her face, rubbing the dried drool carefully from her face while the other rubbed at her still closed eyes.

The nightmare this time was new. She was shrouded in darkness, tied down to god knows what. She couldn't see but everything else had become hyper sensitive to the world around her. In a matter of minutes, her limbs began to be pulled in various directions in an attempt to physically rip them from her person. It was agonizing, as the sick ripping of flesh and tendons played over and over until she no longer felt the limb to be attached. She could scream all she wanted, nothing stopped it. It continued until she felt her heart began to slow and the warm blood seep into her clothes, and finally, she awoke cold and sweaty.

She sat up on the edge of the bed and made her way to the bathroom, eyes now open and adjusting to the steady glow of the morning as she passed the medium sized window just across from her bathroom door. The door creaked open and light flooded the small eggshell white room. Looking into the mirror, Paige got a good look at her disheveled state: Dark brown hair sprawled about and sticking up in places that it shouldn't, dark circles formed just below her hard green eyes, and face oily for some god forsaken reason.

 **With a disgusted groan, she quickly went to work to fix herself up. Washing her face, brushing her teeth, but stopping short of the clearly unused bag of makeup that Skylar had gifted her last year with a backhanded comment that she "needed to look nice if she was ever going to get any dates." Pointless, if you asked Paige. Raking a comb through her hair to flatten it a little, she gave herself one more glance and nodded. Not the best, but it certainly could've been worse. The real question was, what was she going to wear?**

After deciding on a simple dark green t-shirt, black jeans, beanie, and jacket, she graced the living room with her presence where Skylar already happened to reside. Skylar sat on the couch with a coffee mug in hand, clad in sweatpants and a dark blue tanktop, watching tv as if she hadn't a care in the world. She raised a brow at Paige and sipped what appeared to be hot chocolate, giving her attention to the fact that Paige was actually dressed well for once.

"What's the occasion, huh?" she teased with a wolfish grin, setting her mug down and crossing her arms in that know it all way. Paige sarcastically laughed in response.

"Oh _ha ha_ , very funny. If you must know, I am meeting up with someone today."

Skylar beamed with glee. "You mean a date?"

"No, not exact-"

"Paige! Why didn't you tell me?! I could have helped you fix your hair, did your makeup and-"

"Skylar! It's not that serious!"

"Of course it is! You only get one chance to make a first impression you know. C'mon, tell me all about him. Or her. I don't judge," she retorted and patted the seat next to her on the couch. With a roll of her eyes, Paige reluctantly took the seat and thought of a way to explain this to her.

 _Hell, I need to explain this to myself because even I don't know what's going on._

"Well… He's a psych major. He wants to interview me for some paper or whatever on nightmares," she began, moving along seamlessly as she pieced together a lie to tell.

Skylar nodded. "What's his name?"

"Um… Jonathan."

"Ohhh, cute. Is he an upperclassmen?"

"You could say that.."

"What time are you meeting up with him?"

"8 tonight."

"Where?"

Paige hesitated. If Skylar knew anything about Gotham, she knew that the Iceberg Lounge had a reputation with the thugs and rogues as a safe haven. Oswald Cobblepot made sure of that, among other things…

"Iceberg Lounge,"she finally said, hoping that her roommate was oblivious to the fact.

"Isn't that the real fancy place that all the rich people go to?"

 _Skylar… Bless your ignorance._

"Uh… yeah. Kind of."

"Well, that settles it! I am going to fix you up just a little bit and you tell me all about the date afterwards. Deal?"

Groaning melodramatically, Paige agreed. Much to Skylar's delight, as she had been anticipating such an occasion ever since she met Paige. "Great, let me just go grab a few things…"

You would think that being a girl meant that you were skilled at doing tedious things such as hair and makeup. By that, I mean, you would think it wouldn't take several hours for a girl who does their makeup and hair every day. Well, if you thought that was impossible, you're wrong.

"Skylar, come on, you're choking me here with hair spray!" Paige complained as the haze of hairspray grew thicker with each passing minute. Skylar had really taken the liberty of making sure that her hair was not going to become a "fly away mess" as she dubbed it, which meant a half can of hairspray and some other sculpting gel bull shit that seemed completely unnecessary for the purpose of this occasion. Anything to keep the peace..

"Oh hush, I'm almost done you big baby," she retorted and took the small tooth comb through her hair once more, laying it flat against the nape of her neck. Once she finished placing each strand, she took a step back and examined it all carefully.

"Well?"

"I think I've created a masterpiece out of you, madame," she said with a grin. "Don't you want to look?"

Paige nodded, despite her bitter judgement telling her to not give her the complete satisfaction of having proved her wrong. Her hand extended to the hand mirror on the counter and as she brought it up to her face, she let her expression betray her. She was… beautiful, exquisite looking, even. Porcelain skin lightly contoured with a dusting of pink blush, lips ruby red and shimmering, eyes brimming with the shades of green that popped against the smoky eye makeup. Then her hair, which was usually unkempt and wild was tempered and brushed enough that it swept just the right way to frame her face in a way that accentuated her sharp cheekbones. It was strange, but in a unique way.

Skylar leaned in, read her friend's expression and grinned with pure joy written in her dark brown eyes. "So, you like it?"

"... Yeah, actually. You did a real good job. Thanks.." Paige replied sheepishly, a hint of a smile pulling at her lips as she put the mirror down.

"You're welcome! Happy to help. Now, we need to get you down to the Iceberg Lounge. You still wearing what you have on?"

"Yeah, I hear it gets cold in there." The duo laughed as Skylar moved to toss Paige her keys. Effortlessly catching them, Paige tucked them away in her coat pocket and grabbed the black boots she had by the door to put them on.

"Text me when you get there, okay? And text me when you leave. If this guy does anything funny, I'll castrate him. Capiche?" Skylar taunted, leaning over the back of the couch and watched Paige open the door.

"Alright, _mom_. Calm down. I'll be fine. See you in a few."

"See ya."

 _Skylar wasn't kidding. This place is crawling with rich people. Left, right, up, down, every fuckin' where._

Paige had parked a ways down the road, a precaution in case she needed to elude being followed closely or if the police would show up for whatever reason and make a bust on some poor unfortunate soul. Making her way up the stairs, she caught a few stares from the affluent couples who clung to one another like flies to glue traps. Though it didn't really matter, she didn't give two shits about what they thought of her. That wasn't what her purpose was here.

As she cleared the stairs and entered the main lobby, she began to scan the crowd for any sign of Crane. She had seen his mugshot enough times within the last 72 hours to know what he might look like, but the real question was if he would actually show up here.

 _I mean, really. What reason would he have for consorting with the likes of me?_

After a few moments of scanning the crowd, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Craning her head to the right, she caught sight of a tall, thuggish looking man with a scar just above his left temple.

"Markwell?" He asked, voice rough and low. Paige's eyes widened and she gulped visably.

"Uh… y-yeah?"

"Come with me. Boss wants to see you."

He turned on his heel immediately and began walking off towards the back west corner of the lounge where the crowd grew thinner and thinner. Not wanting to stop and think about what she was doing, she trotted along behind him, not making any eye contact with anyone that they passed until they reached what appeared to be a back room reserved for private meetings. And that could be taken in more ways than one.

The man pushed the door open and stood aside to allow her in. As she stepped in, he quickly closed it and stood by as guard and crossed his arms, causing Paige's heart to race a bit more than it already was and her palms sweat.

The room was lit just enough that a table was visible, but the other side was almost pitch black. If someone was sitting there, the only indication of it would be breathing, of which Paige couldn't hear over the sound of her heart beating out of her god damned chest.

"Nice to see you Ms. Markwell. Please, have a seat. We have much to discuss," said Crane as he leaned into the light, hands locked together and elbows supporting him as he leaned. He smiled wolfishly, knowing full and well that she was scared. He lived for this kind of thing, and my was it a sight.

Carefully yet hastily, Paige took a seat across the table from him and locked her hands together in front of her on the table, mimicking him in a way to make herself feel more comfortable. If it were possible, that is.

"You **can** speak, can't you?" Crane teased, gesturing with his hand to her as if to prompt her like some sort of animal.

Paige narrowed her eyes and had to fight the urge to say something she would regret.

 _Remember why you're here…_

"Yes sir. I am perfectly capable of speaking."

He smirked and leaned back in his chair, glasses falling slightly on the bridge of his nose. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company here tonight, Ms. Paige Markwell?"

She paused. "First, tell me how you know my name and where I live."

He laughed and allowed his smirk to widen at how gullible she was. "I'm not obliged to say. However, I do know that you are Paige Markwell. You are a journalism major with a minor in communications. You were born in Frederick, Maryland to Derek Markwell and wife Samantha Markwell. Your SAT score was just the bare minimum to get you into Gotham University and you seek to change the corrupted society we live in through the media. So naive…"

She grit her teeth. _This bastard.._

"So, I'll ask **again**. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company here tonight?"

"J-just some questions. I need your help with something."

He paused for a moment, raising a brow and glancing her over carefully. "And what makes you think _ **I**_ would want to help _**you**_?"

"I just-"

"You thought putting on a little bit of makeup and giving me a show would be enough grounds for me to offer **my** services to you? I'm afraid it'll take a lot more than that to persuade me **_child_**."

"Will you let me finish," she spat, clearly frustrated by how degrading he was being towards her and her cause.

Crane obliged, bringing his steepled hands under his chin as his attention was brought up to her clearly enraged form.

"You're a professor of psychology and damned good one from what I understand," she began, choosing her words carefully in order to play off his ego and hopefully keep his attention.

"Flattery will get you no where, but go on."

"You also conduct research on people and their deepest, darkest fears. Correct?"

He nodded. "Your point?"

"To be frank, I have had vivid night terrors ever since I was a toddler. When I say vivid, I mean I can feel, hear, and even smell everything that goes on in them. I wake up often times screaming throughout the night, sweaty, and cold. I don't know why I have these nightmares. I haven't been through any traumatic events in my life that I'm aware of, and I thought maybe you'd be interested in figuring this out. I've tried everything. Therapy, drugs, you name it. Nothing subdues the nightmares and they are recurring."

When she finished, Crane remained silent yet contemplative. His eyes narrowed and his brow relaxed considerably, as if he were drinking in all the information she had just given him. This made Paige feel uneasy, but that was thanks to her anxiety and not the fact that he was actually considering her proposition.

"You said you hadn't had any traumatic events that you are aware of. Care to explain what you mean by that?" He inquired, becoming focused once more on her.

"Well… I don't remember much about my past. I just remember having these nightmares."

"You don't remember anything? Are you certain?"

"I just know that these nightmares are trying to tell me something. That I'm afraid of something, or that I should be afraid of something. No one else in my family has this issue, it's only me."

He paused again briefly before his next question passed his lips. "I'll make a deal with you, Ms. Markwell. I will help you with your little… issue, on the grounds that you do something for me in return. I will help you discover the roots of your seemingly terrible nightmares if you, in turn, help me with my research, as it were."

 _Oh great. A guinea pig for a psycho with a fixation on scaring people to death as a job title._

"I'm listening."

"By that, I mean, you will take care of some of my more… tedious tasks. Your predicament could potentially advance my research to new heights and help me bring Gotham to it's very knees."

"So… I would be helping you in your crimes essentially?"

He chuckled darkly and smirked. "You aren't as dumb as you seem. Yes, and in exchange, I will help you conquer these night terrors."

Extending his hand across the table, Paige knew she would have to make her decision a lot sooner than later. If her heart was able to beat out of her chest, it would have at the exact moment he moved to speak again. "Do we have a deal?"

 _It's not too late. I could leave. Forget this ever happened. Go back home and resort to taking an entire bottle of Zquil every night to sleep._

Without hesitating, she brought her hand to meet his and shook it. "Deal."

 **A/N: Alright so as promised, a much longer chapter. Sorry if it's kind of filler-y but I want you guys to get a real feel for Paige and her personality as it will be playing a huge role in later chapters as she interacts with her situation. Plus, it was crucial that Crane understand very little from what she explained to him. Why? We'll see that unfold soon.**

 **I've decided that updates will actually be more frequent over the weekends because I don't ever do anything outside of school and work. I might put in some work tomorrow into the next chapter so that I can hopefully wrap it up by Friday. But in the mean time, let me know what you guys think of this chapter and if you guys have an ideas as to what's going to happen next!**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	6. Yet Another Setback

A/N: Hey guys!

"Ashley, where is the new chapter? You haven't updated in ages!"

Yeah, okay let me explain my current situation. As I've said before, I am in college now and I thought I would be able to handle the shift in environment and so on but...

I am doing so poorly I might be going insane. Literally, I have not gone a single week since the semester started where I have went to all my classes. For example, I didn't go to classes today not because I was sick or anything, but rather because I just didn't want to.

Now I know that doesn't seem so bad but one of the classes I am borderline failing which is bad and another is one I can't afford to fail because it only gets harder the longer I wait.

Point is, this is bad all around. So I need to really sit down and reassess my life, which means putting this project down for awhile.

I'm not giving up, just taking a break until I can really dig into this.

Thank you for your understanding!


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